


Like The Wind

by bauhausModernism



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Implied Bullying, References to Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 18:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bauhausModernism/pseuds/bauhausModernism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was the wind.</p><p>Unseen, unheard.</p><p>He came and went unnoticed,</p><p>In the night, and in the day, as the wind did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like The Wind

**Author's Note:**

> the more old stuff i post, the more i realise what a morbid and depressing person i am.
> 
> i think this was going to be a hetalia fic when i first started but it got away from me.

He was the wind.  
Unseen, unheard.  
He came and went unnoticed,  
In the night, and in the day, as the wind did.

 

The world was dark,  
A curtain that refused to rise.  
The leaves were concrete.  
They could not be bothered to take wing  
And join the wind.

 

But still the wind blew.  
And still the concrete leaves would not rise,  
Forever anchored to the cold ground,  
Unaware of the breeze that called to them.

 

And then the wind stopped blowing.  
And the leaves still did not move.  
The wind was gone,  
And the leaves simply continued to exit,  
As they had,  
Unaware of the passing of the wind.

 

The curtain was raised,  
The world was flooded with light.  
But even in the brightness,  
The wind did not return.  
And the leaves went on existing,  
Went on simply being,  
Unaware of the newly-changed world. 

 

The wind was only a boy,  
Naive, unsure.  
He left as he had come,  
Unseen, unheard,  
At the end of the dark night. 

 

The world was bright,  
But the curtain of night would return.  
When it becomes tattered,  
When it becomes overweighted with dust,  
The curtain of night would return,  
Down from the rafters of light.

 

The wind still does not blow,  
Its breeze is forever lost.  
And still, even still,  
The concrete leaves continue to be.

 

The wind, the boy,  
Went as they had come,  
Unseen, unheard,  
Under the curtain of night.


End file.
